


Red

by thewalrus_said



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance, Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Attempted Murder, Domestic Violence, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, References to Suicide, References to drug trade, references to human trafficking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 13:33:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The closest cover was fifty yards away, a cluster of trees behind a rusty playground set. Nasir was fast, he could make it to the trees and hide there, send an SOS to Marcus and be back home in half an hour without a scratch on him. The sniper would be taken care of and Nasir would be safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> This is in response to prompt #6 by maxdasuki. Betaed by the lovely katiebugs18; all remaining errors are my own.

Nasir finished tying the red ribbon in a knot at the back of his neck the moment he reached the front door. He didn’t need a mirror to do it anymore; years of practice had made him able to work the ribbon through his black hair without even thinking about it. The only time he used a mirror was when he knew Marcus was coming by and in a foul mood. Nasir took extra care on those days to look his best.

He stepped outside and took a moment to scan the sidewalk in front of him. There were a few people on the far side of the street and one lone car waiting at the stop light, but none of them were Marcus’ people; which meant Nasir didn’t have to worry about a tail; he had the day to himself.

Nasir took his usual route, down the front path and to the right, making his way towards the nearest park. He liked the park early in the morning; aside from a few joggers and dog-walkers he generally had the place to himself. If he didn’t think about the fact that he usually had somebody following him, Nasircould pretend thathe was just a normal young man out for a morning walk. It was nice.

He walked along, but instead of his mind clearing and calming, his pulse began to pick up and he could feel adrenaline beginning to pool in his stomach. It took him a moment to figure out why - the streets were deserted. They were when he left, of course, but that was a good half-hour ago. The less-motivated joggers and some overworked businessmen should have started appearing. Instead, he had seen barely five people.

Nasir reached the park and turned into it, the skin on the back of his neck prickling the way it did when he had a tail who was watching him a little too closely. It might just be the paranoia from the empty streets but it couldn’t hurt to make sure.

He pulled out his cell phone and held it up, pretending to be looking for a signal. He spun slowly on the spot, moving the phone up and down to give him a cover for scanning the sidewalks and the tops of the buildings around him.

 _There_. On the roof of an office building half a block away. He could see a shape on top of it. The person clearly hadn’t expected to be noticed - his dark hoodie stood out clearly against the light grey of the building and the pale blue of the sky. What was even more noticeable was the object he was holding. Nasir had seen enough guns in his life to know what sunlight looked like when bouncing off one.

Nasir slowly lowered the phone, thinking hard. He knew who owned that office building and he knew whoever was on the roof was there with the owner’s blessing. Everyone in that building this early in the morning would be more than happy to see Nasir shot if it meant dealing Marcus a blow.

The closest cover was fifty yards away, a cluster of trees behind a rusty playground set. Nasir was fast, he could make it to the trees and hide there, send an SOS to Marcus and be back home in half an hour without a scratch on him. The sniper would be taken care of and Nasir would be safe.

His heart rate sped up even further. _Safe_.  Safe in the way he had been safe since he was nineteen years old. Safe under the protection of Marcus. Safe in a cage. He was even wearing a collar of sorts. It was made of ribbon and had been presented as a gift, but it marked him as _owned_ just the same. The first time Nasir pulled it out of his hair after dinner, Marcus had said nothing, just frowned and handed it back to him. From then on, only Marcus could take it off him. He preferred Nasir in red; he said the color set off Nasir’s skin tone nicely. The ribbon seemed to tighten, to cut off his breathing like a pair of hands around his neck. Nasir looked back up at the sniper, not even bothering to lift his phone to cover the movement, and decided. He nodded, not sure if the man on the roof could even see him, and turned his back.

Time seemed to slow down, each beat impossibly long, as Nasir stood quietly with his back to a sniper. He focused on standing still and staying relaxed. He’d always heard that things hurt more if you were tense. He realized that long minutes had passed and he was still unharmed, and at that moment a rough hand took his elbow and an equally rough voice growled, “Come with me,” into his ear.

The hand pulled Nasir into the copse of trees. Nasir went, shaking his arm until the man’s iron grip eased a little; Nasir knew he’d have a bruise in the morning. The man didn’t let go until they were a full ten steps behind the tree line and then he pushed Nasir around so they were facing each other.

The man was tall and broad, dressed in dark blue jeans andthe sweatshirt Nasir had seen. He had the hood of the sweatshirt up but Nasir could tell that his hair was short. He had a strong jaw, set in something that was either fear or annoyance, and the same emotion lurked in his green eyes as well.

Nasir took this in with a single sweep of his eyes, rubbing his elbow as he did. “You’ll have left a mark, you know.”

“I could have left a bullet hole.” The man was regarding Nasir as intently as Nasir had regarded him, although he was doing it much slower. “But I think you knew that.”

“Why didn’t you?” Nasir kept rubbing his elbow. He didn’t know what else to do with his hands under the sniper’s scrutiny.

“I’m not sure,” the man said after a pause. His voice was quiet now, less rough and antagonistic. He kept looking Nasir up and down until a buzz came from his pocket. The man pulled out a cheap-looking phone. He flipped it open and scanned the screen for a moment before returning it to his pocket. “Come with me,” he said again, still in the same quiet voice. He reached out a hand but dropped it when Nasir shied away. Nasir nodded his assent and followed the man back through the trees.

He kept following, out of the park and into the office building the other man had been standing on top of. In the elevator, the man pushed the button for the twelfth floor and then shoved his hands into his pockets. It was a remarkably prosaic posture for an assassin, Nasir mused.

The elevator reached the twelfth floor and the doors slid open. Nasir followed the man through a maze of hallways to a door at the very back. The man pulled out a key, turned it in the lock, and used it to push the door inward. He stepped to the side and gestured that Nasir should enter first. Nasir heard him enter and lock the door.

Nasir had half-expected the room inside to be some sort of over-the-top interrogation room with stone walls and flickering light, but it was set up much like any other office Nasir had seen, except that most office windows were not several feet above eye level. There was a deskspread out across one wall, a handful of chairs across from it; bookshelves across another wall; a water cooler in the corner. A man sat behind the desk, watching Nasir and the sniper coolly, and another man was pacing in front of the bookshelves.

As soon as the sniper had locked the door behind him, the pacing man spun and actually growled at him. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Enough,” the man behind the desk said, lifting a hand even though his colleagues were glaring at each other and not looking at him. “Let’s not make a bad impression on our guest.” When neither man backed down, he snapped, “Crixus! Agron! Sit down immediately.”

That seemed to work; the two men sank into chairs as far from each other as they could manage. The man who seemed to be in charge turned to Nasir and went on, “I apologize for my comrade. He’s been a little tense since we received word that you were being brought in. Please, sit,” the man went on, gesturing at another chair in between Agron and Crixus. Nasir sat.  “Do you know who we are?”

“Not specifically,” Nasir said after a moment. “But I know this building belongs to the leader of the Rebels. I’m assuming that’s you?”

“My name is Spartacus,” the man said with a nod of his head. “I do own this building, and I am the leader of the group that some refer to as the Rebels. My angry companion is Crixus, and the man who brought you here is called Agron. Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’d love some water.” Nasir said it mostly to see what would happen, but to his surprise Spartacus rose and went to the water cooler himself, returning with a paper cup and handing it to Nasir. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Spartacus sat back down and steepled his fingers in front of his face, leaning back in his chair. “Why are you here?”

“I was brought here,” Nasir replied, taking a sip. “As for why that is, you’d have to ask my guide.”

“Agron?” Spartacus asked, without turning his gaze from Nasir.

“Should we really be having this conversation right now?” Crixus interrupted. “The boy’s right here.”

“He deserves to know why he’s been effectively kidnapped,” Spartacus replied. “Agron?”

“I thought he might be interested in joining our cause.” The sniper - Agron - sounded uncomfortable. Nasir didn’t dare turn around and see what his face looked like.

“And why did you think that?”

Agron was silent. When the silence stretched out to an awkward length Nasir took pity on him. “I assume it’s because I didn’t attempt to run from his assassination attempt.”

“You knew?” Crixus snarled. Then, presumably to Agron, “You let him see you?”

“Oh, is that why he’s being quiet about it? Don’t worry, it wasn’t his fault. He was very good.” Nasir kept addressing Spartacus, who was still looking straight at him. “I grew suspicious of the emptiness of the area and only saw him when I was looking for the cause. How did you manage to clear the streets so effectively, by the way?”

“Ours is an extensive group. Enough people casually milling about at the right places at the right times can leave a city block quite empty for the length of an assassination attempt. By now they should be at their usual level of activity.”

Nasir considered that. “That must come in handy.”

Spartacus acknowledged him with a nod, and went on. “So you saw a man on top of a building you knew to be owned by your lover’s enemies, inferredthat you were about to be eliminated, and turned your back on the sniper?” Spartacus went on, turning the conversation back to Nasir’s motivations.

Nasir smiled. He was comingto like Spartacus. “I did, yes. I assume your sniper took my willingness to be killed as an indication that I am not overly happy with, as you call him, my lover.”

Spartacus lifted an eyebrow. “And was this true?”

Nasir laughed out loud; he couldn’t help himself. “At that moment, yes, it was.”

“I see.” Spartacus shifted forward in his chair. “And your unhappiness prompted you to stay when you saw my sniper?”

“It was a way out,” Nasir said, not dropping his gaze. “Your sniper’s bullet seemed to be a convenient and totally effective way out of my situation, and I couldn’t count on that sort of opportunity happening again. I had to choose.I decided to take it.” He gave a short laugh, less humorous than the first. “As it turns out, it didn’t work, andinstead of being freed from my circumstances, I’ve now, as you say, been effectively kidnapped.”

He could hear a cough come from the direction of Agron’s chair at that statement. It seemed the sniper now found himself squeamish. Nasir ignored him. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a few questions of my own.”

“Go ahead,” Spartacus responded with an inviting sweep of his hand.

“You called Marcus my lover,” Nasir started. “I once would have agreed, but now its perhaps more accurate to call him my keeper. I assume the attempt on my life means that you now consider yourselves ready to handle a provoked Marcus, and you believe you can win the resulting battle. I’ll admit I’m not against the idea of helping you. What I need to be sure of is that I won’t be exchanging one keeper for another.”

Crixus let out what sounded like the beginning of an angry yell; Spartacus held up a hand to forestall whatever offended comment was coming. “That is a valid concern and everyone here knows it. However, my people make a conscious effort not to be like your keeper, as you put it. I’ll make you a deal. If you agree to work with us to get rid of Crassus, we will offer you our protection until it is over. Once it’s done, you’ll be free to do as you like and neither will owe the other anything.”

Nasir raised an eyebrow. “And I trust you why exactly? You ordered my execution, if I understand correctly.”

“I trust Agron’s instincts,” the man said, not missing a beat. “I believed that the death of a loved one might drive Crassus to act irrationally, leading to his downfall. However, having spoken with you, and given that my hitman seems reluctant to kill you, I’m willing to revise my plans. With that in mind, are my terms acceptable?”

Nasir regarded him for a moment. “They are.”

“Excellent.” Spartacus stood so Nasir did as well. “You must be hungry. Would you care to stay for lunch, or would it be safer for you to depart now?”

“I should probably leave. I’m not being followed today but all the same, I shouldbe careful.”

“As you wish.” Spartacus unlocked the door, pulling it open for Nasir to exit. “Agron will walk you out. We’ll be in touch shortly.”

“Make sure you’re careful about it.” Nasir swept past him. “Everything’s a lot less fun when you get caught.”

Agron caught up to him just before the first turn in the hallway. He put out a hand and held his fingers close to Nasir’s elbow, steering without actually touching him. Sincehe wasalready bruised, Nasir appreciated the effort. They didn’t speak until the doors of the elevator slid closed in front of them. Then Agron turned to Nasir. “What did you mean, you’re not being followed today?”

“Exactly what I said. None of Marcus’ people are following me today.”

“Do they usually?”

“Did you honestly expect a man like Marcus not to protect his investments?” Agron was silent at that and Nasir took the opportunity to ask a question of his own. “Is what you do personal? Or do you all do vigilante work forthe principle of the thing? I’ve always wondered.”

Agron was silent for another two floors before finally answering, “Some do it based on principle. Crixus, Spartacus, and I all have personal reasons to hate Crassus.”

Nasir waited, but when Agron didn’t go on he pressed, “If you’d rather not talk about it, I understand, but I’m under no delusions about the type of man Marcus is. There’s no need to sugar-coat it for my benefit.”

Agron said quietly, “My brother and Spartacus’ wife were both killed by Crassus’ men several months ago. Collateral damage. Crixus’ girlfriend went missing a few weeks ago, and he thinks Crassus has her. It’s why he joined us.”

Nasir nodded slowly, more to himself than to Agron, but when the other man looked at him questioningly he went on, “I’d wondered if he moved on from trafficking drugs to trafficking people.” Nasir bit his lip immediately, waiting for Agron to make a comment about how cold he sounded. Thankfully Agron seemed to have more tact than that.

They reached the ground floor in silence. Agron walked him to the front door, reminding Nasir that someone would be in touch soon, and then Nasir found himself on a busy street in the blazing sunlight.

Nasir gave himself a moment to collect himself. He scanned the crowd, saw none of Marcus’ men, and headed back towards his apartment. He managed to ride his adrenaline rush until he was back in his apartment with a bag of Chinese takeout, but when he tried to open the first box his hands were shaking so hard that he tore it.

He stayed in the rest of the day, curled up in a chair by the window, pretending to read. As his fingers idly turned the pages, he tried to turn his thoughts to everything that had happened, Spartacus and Crixus, the deal he had made and the way his life was going to change, sooner or later, for better or worse. But instead he thought about Agron, the sniper who didn’t want his mark to die, who hadn’t touched him after he realized Nasir didn’t want him to. Nasir eventually slammed his book shut and went to take a shower, trying to drown out thoughts of green eyes in the hot water.

When he emerged, it was to find a new text message waiting on his phone. _Lunch tomorrow?_

Nasir replied _I look forward to it_ and tossed his phone down onto the bed, following it a moment later. Despite the fact that he had spent the afternoon nearly immobile, he was asleep in moments.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nasir met Marcus in a small Italian restaurant three blocks from his apartment. It was Marcus’ favorite; he didn’t own it, but Nasir suspected he did own the owners. Whatever the reason, Nasir never saw money change hands for the meals they ate there.

Nasir didn’t see Marcus when he walked through the door; he never saw Marcus first, and that was the way the other man liked it. Nasir looked instead for Marcus’ bodyguard, tucked away in a corner booth, tearing a breadstick to bite-sized pieces with long fingers. Nasir didn’t know the names of most of Marcus’ people but he knew this man’s name. _Castus_. He was hoping it would be Castus today.

Marcus himself was sitting on the other side of the restaurant. He rose when the door closed behind Nasir, and smiled. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Of course,” Nasir said with an answering smile, sinking down into the chair Marcus had pulled out for him. “I wouldn’t miss a chance to see you, you know that.”

“Flatterer.” Marcus sat down, still smiling almost shyly at Nasir. The older man’s charm and looks didn’t affect Nasir anymore, but he could remember a time when they did, when he still preened under Marcus’ attention and burned under his touch. The memories came in handy. “I am sorry it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other,” Marcus continued, passing Nasir a menu and brushing his fingers over the back of his hand.

“Well, I hope you have a good excuse,” Nasir replied, dropping his eyes to the menu that he had memorized long ago. “I missed you.”

Marcus laughed. “It’s a terrible excuse, I’m afraid. One of my recent...acquisitions has been causing problems for weeks. I’ve had to devote nearly all my time to solving them."

Nasir studied the appetizer section of the menu in front of him. Acquisitions, with a slight hesitation before the word. Given his conversation with Agron the day before, Nasir had a pretty good idea of what that meant. “I take it you found a solution, since you’ve managed to make time for me again?”

Marcus tutted. “Don’t be pert, dear, you know I’d have rather been with you. And yes, we’re moving her to a more secure location soon. She won’t be able to keep me from your side any longer, I promise.”

 _Her_. Nasir couldn’t tell if it was a slip or if Marcus no longer cared to keep the details of some of his work secret. Either way, he had given Nasir what he needed. _On a Castus day, too_. It was almost like Marcus wanted to be betrayed.

Their usual server came then and Nasir was able to mask any emotion that may have slipped out by pretending to make an on-the-spot decision about what to have. By the time the menus were gone, he was calm again and the smile he flashed at Marcus was only slightly fake. “Well, I’ve thought about it, and I’ve decided to forgive you.”

“Wonderful,” Marcus said, with a self-deprecating nod of his head. “Thank you. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“It better not. I might not be in this good a mood next time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Marcus lifted his glass of water in a mock toast to Nasir’s goodheartedness.

Thankfully, their food came quickly and the conversation died down as the two men ate. Nasir took his time with it, chewing slowly and picking at the bread. The longer he ate, the longer he could remain silent. Normally he could fake a flirtatious banter with Marcus without even thinking about it, but today all the words were turning to ash in his mouth.

Finally, the waiter returned, boxed up their leftovers, and shook Marcus’ hand as he stood up. Nasir followed suit. “I’m afraid I can’t stay with you longer, Nasir, I have to spend this afternoon taking care of some business I’ve been neglecting.” Nasir frowned and Marcus continued, “On a happier note, I have a dinner meeting tonight that will wrap it all up and then I’m yours for the night. I’ll see you this evening?”

Nasir nodded and allowed Marcus to kiss his cheek. “This evening, then.” Marcus left the restaurant, making a right down the sidewalk. Castus waited a few moments and then exited as well, making a left instead. Marcus always preferred his bodyguards to leave a different way. Something about not drawing attention to themselves.

Nasir took the long route to his apartment, trying to breathe in as much of the cool, crisp air as he could. By the time he closed his fridge on the leftovers he was calmer, his nervous energy burnt out on the walk. He put a pot of coffee on, took two mugs down from the cabinet, and reopened his front door.

“Come on in, then. Coffee’s on.”

He walked back to the kitchen, leaving the front door open. After a handful of seconds, he heard the door shut and footsteps follow him in. “I really shouldn’t be here,” Castus said.

“You always say that,” Nasir replied, pulling a carton of milk from the fridge. “And you always come in.”

“Well, your coffee’s the best I’ve ever had.” Castus seated himself at the end of the counter in the middle of the kitchen. “I don’t know where you get it.”

“To be honest, neither do I.” Nasir poured coffee into the two mugs, pushing one of them and the milk over to Castus. “I just brew it. Sugar’s in the usual place.”

“Thanks.”

The two men were quiet for a few moments, Castus dumping too much sugar into his mug and returning the milk to the fridge. Once they were both settled, Castus back in his seat, Nasir leaning against the sink, Nasir asked, “How’s your dog? Leg getting better?”

“He’s fine. He’s healing, anyway. He’d heal faster if he stopped chasing squirrels, but he’ll be alright."

Nasir took a sip. “You think he’d have learned that chasing them leads to getting hit by cars. Third time it’s happened.”

“He’s the dumbest creature I’ve ever seen in my life,” Castus said, laughing. “And I’ve worked for some dumb people, let me tell you.”

“Well, it’s endearing in a dog,” Nasir reasoned. “Dumb dogs are cute, but we like our humans to have all the intelligence our pet lacks.”

Castus smiled at that, but it was a little wistful. Nasir bit the bullet. “Can I ask you something?”

Castus’ smile turned friendly at that. “I was wondering where this was going.  Ask away, you know I can’t say no to you.”

“At lunch Marcus mentioned an asset he was going to move. He let slip it was a woman.” Castus bit his lip and looked down, but Nasir plowed on. “Do you know her name?”

“Yes, and I know when and where she’s being moved, if those are your next questions,” Castus snapped, then dropped his face into his hand. “Sorry. Touchy subject.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Nasir put on a winning smile that made Castus laugh. “Seriously, though, I’d like to know, if you can tell me. I like to know what Marcus is doing.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Castus quipped, taking another large swallow of coffee and draining his mug.

“I don’t want to be one of those mafia wives that stays home and doesn’t know what her husband is up to. I’ll stay home but I want to be informed. I want to know what kind of man is paying for my life, Castus, and he won’t tell me. But you’re better than that, you know me better than that. You know I won’t freak out or tell anyone. Please? You can trust me.”

Castus stared resolutely into the bottom of his empty mug until Nasir stopped talking. Apparently deciding that the dregs of his coffee didn’t hold the answers, he looked up at Nasir. Nasir pushed all of his earnestness and honesty into his eyes, pulling all the deceitful parts back. He wasn’t really lying to Castus, he told himself, not entirely. He _did_ want to know.

Nasir held Castus’ eyes for a moment before the other man dropped his gaze. “Her name is Naevia,” he said quietly. “She’s being moved on Thursday to one of Crassus’ apartments in another city. She nearly clawed out one her guard’s eyes and made it halfway out the window before they caught her so he’s putting her somewhere he can lock her up alone until the buyer is ready for her. No windows. That’s all I know.”

Nasir put his mug on the counter and unwrapped Castus from his own mug, taking his hand. “Thank you,” he said softly. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Castus let Nasir hold his hand for a long moment before standing up and pulling it free. “Crassus should be here soon,” he said. “I should be outside when he gets here.”

Marcus wouldn’t be there for hours but Nasir let him go. He drained his own coffee and rinsed out both mugs, turning them over and putting them in the dishwasher. It was Sunday; Thursday was four days away. Spartacus had said his people would be in touch but he hadn’t said when. Nasir decided that he would give them until Tuesday to make contact. If they didn’t, well, he was more than capable of breaking into an office building and leaving a note. If Marcus had people on him, Nasir would say he’d been spying. Marcus wouldn’t be pleased but he also wouldn’t be suspicious; he knew Nasir went stir-crazy every now and then.

Nasir woke Monday morning with Marcus’ arm thrown over his waist and a fierce growling in his stomach. He’d been too anxious to eat anything since talking to Castus, and when Marcus had arrived they’d gone straight to bed. Marcus’ laugh, low and teasing, came from behind Nasir’s head. “Someone’s hungry,” he said, and dropped a kiss onto Nasir’s shoulder. “Come on, get dressed. Breakfast, on me.”

Nasir dressed quickly, brushing his teeth while Marcus was still tying his shoes. Marcus passed him the red ribbon from the floor where he had thrown it the night before. Nasir wrapped it around the elastic band already in his hair, before letting himself be ushered out the door.

They ate breakfast in a diner a block away from Nasir’s apartment, one Marcus seemed to favor even though he actually paid for their meals there. They had been there for about fifteen minutes, toast eaten and waiting for their pancakes, when an arm jostled Nasir’s and slopped a bit of orange juice onto his lap and shirt.

Nasir glanced up and snapped, “Watch it,” biting down relief at seeing Agron. Spartacus kept his word quickly, it seemed, and now Nasir didn’t have to break into a secure building.

“God, sorry,” Agron said, grabbing a napkin off the table next to them and approaching Nasir. “Let me help -”

Marcus blocked him with an arm in front of his chest. “I think you’ve done enough, pal. Back off.”

“I’m really sorry,” Agron said again, putting the napkin down and stepping back, visibly shaken at the proprietary note in Marcus’ voice. He looked like he wanted to linger but Marcus’ eyes on him were better than a pair of hands pushing him away. Agron disappeared to the other side of the diner.

“Are you alright?” Marcus asked, shifting from possessive to caring with the blink of an eye. “Is the shirt ruined?"

“It shouldn’t be,” Nasir said, looking down. In fact, Agron had done a remarkable job of getting most of it on the napkin in Nasir’s lap, only a drop or two hitting his shirt. “Let me just get some water on it and it should be fine. Be right back.” He stood and made his way to the bathroom, holding the edge of his shirt out from his body.

Agron was waiting for him. He must have doubled back behind the counter while Marcus was looking at Nasir. He slid around and locked the door behind Nasir. “Well played,” Nasir said. “You looked terrified.”

“I was terrified,” Agron muttered, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms. “How was my aim?”

“Perfect,” Nasir said. He undid the bottom buttons of his shirt and dampened a paper towel. “Barely got me.” He started rubbing at the few spots of orange on his shirt with the paper towel.

“I’m here to make sure you’re alright and still on board with the arrangement we came to a few days ago,” Agron said. His tone was professional but his eyes kept darting down to the strip of skin bared just above Nasir’s pants. Nasir couldn’t help but grin.

“I am. And I’m fine, thank you for asking. I had a question for you, actually, your timing is perfect.” He stopped tending his shirt at that and caught Agron’s eye. “Crixus’ woman, is her name Naevia?”

Agron started upright. “Yes. You’ve had news of her?”

“She’s being moved on Thursday,” Nasir said, still looking at Agron. “I don’t know when or to where, but I know she’s being taken out of the city. Is that enough for you to find her?”

“Yes,” Agron said, “that’s perfect. We’ve been searching for weeks, how did you -”

“Do I ask how you do your job?” Nasir asked, lifting an eyebrow. He walked over to the hand dryer in the corner, lifting the edge of his shirt higher to get the wet spot into the stream of air.

“You’re different with him,” Agron said after a moment. “Softer, I mean. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Nasir brushed his thumb over the hem of his shirt, testing to see how dry it was. “Like I said,” he muttered, trying to keep the resentment from his voice. “It’s a full-time job.”

“Sorry.” Nasir looked over his shoulder and Agron was biting his lip, looking everywhere but at the bit of bare back he was presented with. “Didn’t mean to pry.”

“Don’t be. You answered my obnoxious questions in the elevator,” Nasir said, lowering the hem of his shirt and pulling it back into place. “We’re square. I should get back, though.”

“Right. Of course,” Agron said, looking down and back up. He lifted his hand like he was going to put it against Nasir’s cheek, but dropped it onto his shoulder instead. “Thank you. Really.”

“Just get her out,” Nasir said, touching Agron lightly on the wrist. “I don’t like to think what she’s been through, but it’ll get worse if she’s taken out of the city.”

Agron nodded, and Nasir slipped past him, unlocked the door, and made his way back to the table, where Marcus and a small stack of pancakes were waiting for him.

“You took your time,” Marcus said. He didn’t sound accusing, though, more like a long-suffering husband waiting for his partner before he could start eating. Which, Nasir supposed, was probably how Marcus saw himself.

“I was trying to get the shirt to dry,” Nasir said, opening a packet of syrup. “Didn’t want to come out with a big wet spot all over me.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Marcus agreed, lifting his knife and fork and digging in. “Bon appetit.”

Marcus spent the rest of the day with Nasir, watching movies on Nasir’s couch and ordering pizza when they got hungry again. It was days like this that Nasir usually tried to forget he was the kept boy of a mob boss and pretend he was in some kind of normal, healthy relationship. Today, though, he was too caught up in thoughts of Naevia, whoever she was, to completely relax, a fact which Marcus noticed.

“I guess this morning shook me a little more than I’d like to admit,” Nasir said when he asked, which was completely the truth. “I got spooked for a moment, guess the adrenaline never quite died down,” he added, which was not.

“Let’s see if we can’t come up with something to calm you down,” Marcus murmured, running his fingers along the back of Nasir’s neck and following the path with his lips. Nasir let him, shifting to let Marcus’ fingers undo the buttons of his shirt and changing the image in his mind’s eye from a battered, faceless woman to a pair of bright, nervous green eyes.

Marcus slipped out in the middle of the night, kissing Nasir on the shoulder and dressing in darkness. Nasir woke to an apologetic text on his phone and a cold spot in the bed. He rolled into it, trying to shake off his dreams. _Lucky I don’t talk in my sleep_ , he thought, pressing his face into a pillow. If he started now, he would have to deal with Marcus’ questions about who Agron was and why Nasir was dreaming about him.

Nasir’s peace didn’t last long; it was only Tuesday but every nerve in his body was thrumming for Thursday and finding out what had happened with Naevia. Castus wasn’t on duty, so Nasir couldn’t use his friend as a distraction. Instead he went for runs, taking his usual paths two or three times over to try and work out his tension. It didn’t relieve his mental stress, but at least he slept without dreams.

He found out what happened sooner than he expected to; he thought he would hear from Agron or Spartacus after it was over, or at the very latest get it out of Castus the next time he was on duty. Instead, Marcus flew through his front door in the middle of the afternoon on Thursday, nearly red in the face from rage.

“Who did you tell?” he asked, his voice silky and quiet in a way Nasir had never heard before.

“I don’t know what -” Nasir started, genuine fear making it sound true, but Marcus cut him off.

“You must have told someone,” Marcus said in that same dangerous tone and took a step closer to Nasir. Nasir took a step back and realized he was cornered against the couch. “Tell me now and I’ll forgive you. Keep lying to me and I can’t make the same promise.”

“I’m not lying!” Nasir skirted the edge of the couch and kept backing away, slowly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please, Marcus, you’re scaring me. Just, just sit down and we can talk about this -”

Marcus backhanded him across the face, the wedding ring that Nasir never asked about cutting into the skin of his cheek, the force of the blow knocking him to the ground. Nasir caught himself on his hands, blinking the reactionary tears from his eyes. He let his shoulders shake instead of tensing them, trying to make himself look as helpless as possible, which was not difficult. Nasir had known for most of his association with Marcus that he was under the thumb of a dangerous man, but he’d never genuinely feared for his own safety before.

Nasir stayed on the floor for a long moment before slowly pushing himself to his feet and standing. He turned, raising his eyes to Marcus’ face. “I promise you, I didn’t say anything to anyone. I don’t even know anything to tell. Whatever happened, you’re blaming the wrong person. I’d like you to leave now.”

“Nasir,” Marcus said, starting forward and reaching a hand out for his arm. Nasir pulled it back, dropping his eyes quickly to the floor. “Nasir, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Of course you didn’t say anything, I just got angry.”

“Please leave,” Nasir repeated, gathering himself together and shuffling into the kitchen. His knee had caught the floor hard when he fell. He made it to the sink before feeling Marcus’ hands wrap around his shoulders. Nasir tried to shake him off but Marcus just pressed closer. “Don’t touch me,” Nasir spat out.

“Say you’ll forgive me,” Marcus said, not letting go.

Nasir sighed. “You know me, Marcus. I can’t stay angry at you for long.” He stepped back, forcing Marcus to let go of him. He turned around. “I will forgive you, I just need to be alone for a while. Please.”

Marcus nodded. If Nasir didn’t know him as well as he did, he would have believed that Marcus was genuinely horrified at his own actions. “I’ll let you be,” Marcus said. “Call me, when you feel up to it?” Nasir nodded, arms crossed and eyes down, and heard Marcus make his way out.

Once he heard the door close, Nasir turned to the cabinets behind him, pulling out a glass and a bottle of painkillers. A bottle of whiskey came out of a cabinet at his feet. He washed down the pills with a mouthful of whiskey and then poured another glass for good measure.

A few more swallows and a sandwich later, Nasir felt his hands stop shaking. He took his time cleaning up, even washing his plate and knife by hand instead of rinsing them and putting them in the dishwasher, but eventually he had no choice but to walk into the bathroom and take a look at his face.

There was already a bruise forming, visible even with his dark skin, and a shallow gash running across it from Marcus’ ring. Looking at it made it start to ache again. Nasir swung the mirror out and pulled a bottle of peroxide and a small strip of gauze from the medicine cabinet behind it. Pushing the mirror closed, Nasir poured peroxide onto the gauze and taped it to his cheek. After a few moments of sharp pain, the stinging died down enough that he could open his eyes and unclench his fingers from the edge of the sink. The bandage covered the cut, but it left most of the bruise visible.

Nasir made his way out and sank onto his couch, thinking hard. It had been a mistake to leave Agron again without any way of contacting him or Spartacus. Marcus had never struck Nasir or, as far as Nasir knew, gotten his hands dirty in any direct way before. He needed to get to Spartacus. But Marcus would have him followed, today of all days, to make sure that Nasir didn’t cut and run. There was no way he could make it to Spartacus’ building without his tail notifying Marcus.

A knock on the door interrupted Nasir’s thoughts. He nearly cried with relief when he looked through the peephole, but managed to swallow the tears back down as he opened the door and let Castus in. “What happened?” Castus asked the moment the door was closed behind him. “Crassus said you two had a fight and I should make sure you didn’t do anything rash - oh my god,” he cut himself off as Nasir turned to face him. “What did he do to you?”

“Hit me, obviously,” Nasir said, unable to keep the bitter note from his voice. “He had his ring on.”

“Jesus,” Castus breathed, following Nasir into the kitchen. “Has he ever done that before?”

“No,” Nasir admitted. “But then, he’s never been quite this angry before.”

“What happened?” Castus asked again, watching Nasir start a pot of coffee.

“He accused me of telling someone, one of his enemies, about Naevia. I’m guessing that she’s escaped.” Castus looked at him and Nasir swallowed again. “Yes,” he said. “If you’re wondering, yes. I told.”

“Good,” Castus replied, before Nasir’s stomach could even begin to start knotting. “Someone should have. I’m just ashamed it wasn’t me.” The coffee machine beeped over Nasir’s grateful smile. “I won’t ask who you’re in contact with,” Castus continued, accepting a steaming mug from Nasir, “but are you going to tell them about that?” He gestured at Nasir’s cheek with his free hand.

“I think I have to,” Nasir said, stirring sugar into his coffee. “I’m not sure Marcus believed me when I said I didn’t know anything. It might make him more dangerous if he starts distrusting me. They should know.” He took a sip from his mug, then another one. “The problem is, I have no way to get in touch with them short of walking into their headquarters, and I can’t do that with a tail.”

“How’d you let them know about Naevia?”

“They sent someone to make sure I was alright after we made our deal.” Nasir took another sip, trying to mask the smile that threatened to spread at the thought of Agron nearly touching his cheek - the same cheek that Marcus had cut. The reminder killed his smile.

They were quiet for a few minutes, until both their mugs were empty and in the sink, and then Castus cleared his throat. “You know what I think?” he asked.

“What do you think?”

“I think you’ve had a traumatic experience today and you could use some air. I think you’d appreciate a walk. Of course, I would follow you and make a full report to Marcus on where you went.”

Nasir felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth. “You’re probably right. I think a walk would do me good.”

Castus slipped out the front door to follow Nasir from his appointed place while Nasir found a coat and pulled his hair back into a ponytail. He headed out the front door, pretending not to notice Castus lurking in the corner of the landing, and made his way out of the apartment building, turning onto the road to the park. By the time he got there, shadows were starting to creep up the buildings, but he had a suspicion someone would still be in Spartacus’ building. He ducked into the trees where he had first seen Agron, trusting Castus to remain outside of them, then doubled back around and walked right in the office building’s front door.

As he suspected, the place was mostly deserted. He took the elevator up to the twelfth floor, and made his way through the maze of hallways and cubicles until he found himself outside the locked, heavy door at the end.

He knocked.

The door swung open in seconds and he was pulled roughly inside by Crixus. “You were followed, you fool,” Crixus hissed. “You’ve put us all in danger.”

“It’s alright,” Nasir said, straightening up and removing his arm from Crixus’ grasp. “I know him, he’s trustworthy.”

“You mean he’s on our side?” Crixus seemed skeptical.

“He’s on my side,” Nasir said calmly, and only then noticed Agron tucked into a corner behind the desk where Spartacus was sitting. “He’s the one who told me about Naevia. I don’t believe he’s going to tell Marcus I was here. How is she?”

Crixus seemed to deflate. “She’s alive. She’s tougher than she looks, she’ll get through it. We have you to thank for that.”

Nasir shook his head, and the motion seemed to draw everyone’s attention to the bandage on his cheek. Agron started forward, but caught himself before moving too far away from the wall. “What the hell happened?”

“Marcus happened.” Nasir made an effort to keep his voice cool and collected. “He accused me of betraying him to his enemies. I denied everything but he was... unsatisfied with my answers at first.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Agron swore, one hand balling into a fist. Spartacus held up a hand.

“Are you harmed in any other way?” he asked. Nasir shook his head. “I’m glad to hear it. However, and I don’t mean to sound insensitive, you wouldn’t have risked coming here unless you had something vital to tell us, no matter how trustworthy your tail has proven.”

Gesturing to his cheek, Nasir said, “This _is_ sort of what I wanted to tell you. He’s suspicious, he knows this wasn’t a stroke of luck, that someone leaked information about Naevia’s whereabouts. He’s probably figured out that she’s connected to your people.” He nodded at Crixus. “I may or may not have convinced him that I wasn’t involved, but either way it doesn’t matter. You’ve messed up his business deal. He’ll be coming for you soon, so at least he can tell his _buyer_ ” - Nasir spat the word out - “that he’s made sure nothing like this will happen again. I came to give you advanced notice."

There was a beat of silence after Nasir finished, and then Spartacus nodded and stood. “Thank you for the warning. I’ll make sure it’s heeded. I’m sure you’ll forgive me for rushing out like this.” He waited for Nasir’s nod of assent, then swept from the room with Crixus on his heels, leaving Nasir alone with Agron.

“You’re not going with them?” Nasir asked, turning to the other man, who, he noticed, still had a clenched fist pressed against his thigh.

“In a moment,” Agron said, taking a step from the wall. Towards Nasir. “I want to make sure you’re really alright first.”

“Of course I’m not,” Nasir snapped, voice brittle, and at that Agron finally moved in and placed his hand on Nasir’s uninjured cheek. Nasir turned his face into it and continued, “I don’t want to go back there. I’d rather spend the rest of my life in this room then go back to him.” There was an unspoken _with you_ in the last sentence that Agron seemed to hear anyway.

“You don’t have to go back,” he said hoarsely, putting his forehead to Nasir’s. “We can get you away, we can get you safe. You never have to see him again, you never have to think about him again, if you don’t want to.”

“I can’t,” Nasir said. “I mean, I could, you’re right, but I can’t. I need to stay until its over, until _he’s_ over. And besides,” he continued, taking a breath and trying to lighten his tone. “There are some parts of this city I’d miss. Some people.”

Agron lifted his face from where it was still pressed against Nasir’s. “Castus.”

Nasir frowned. “Castus, yes, he’s been a good friend to me. And you.”

Agron kept moving back from Nasir until his hand fell away from his face. “You don’t even know me. Why would you miss me?”

Nasir felt a flush creep up the back of his neck. “True. But you don’t know me any better and I got the impression that you would miss me if I left. Embarrassingly, it seems I was wrong.” Agron’s face fell and Nasir took a step back. “I know the way out.”

He had his hand on the doorknob before Agron said, “Wait,” and moved forward until he was directly behind Nasir. “I’m sorry.” Nasir turned to him and saw that his face was earnest, looking down at Nasir and biting his lip. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. You’re right. I wouldn’t like it if you left. I just didn’t know you felt the same.” Nasir turned fully towards him, crossing his arms loosely. The way Agron was standing, Nasir’s elbow nearly touched his chest. “Do you?” he continued. “Feel the same?”

“That depends.” Nasir’s voice came out quieter than he intended. He tried to make his next sentence lighter. “What are you feeling?”

It must have worked, because a smile made its way onto Agron’s lips. He no longer looked quite as scared of Nasir. “Confused,” he confessed. “I thought you’d want to just get the hell out of here and forget everything, and I’ve been psyching myself up to let you go. I don’t want to be like _him_ , for you to think you owe me anything. But I want you. And I’d miss you if you left.”

Nasir had to bite down to keep an inappropriately-timed grin from spreading across his face. “You’re worried about it,” he said instead, leaning his head against the wall. As he had hoped, Agron’s followed, tilting down slightly. “That’s a good start. And already an important difference from him.”

“You think so?”

“I do.” Nasir took a breath, dropping his arms to fold against the door at his back. “Another important difference between the two of you is that I don’t want him in return."

The full force of Agron’s smile at close range nearly blinded Nasir. “I would say that’s an important difference, yes.”

Nasir kissed him, keeping his hands firmly planted against the door so he didn’t wind them into the fabric of Agron’s shirt. Agron seemed conscious of that danger as well, because he pressed back into the kiss but kept his hands at his side. When Nasir pulled back a moment later, he saw that one of Agron’s hands had clenched around the edge of his jeans pocket.

“That was the first time in a long time that I’ve done something I genuinely wanted to do,” Nasir said, forcing himself to keep his eyes open and his mouth away from Agron’s. “If it’s alright with you, I intend to continue doing it once he’s out of the picture.”

“Fine by me,” Agron murmured, “Totally, totally fine.” He leaned forward to put his forehead against Nasir’s again and laughed, low and wistful. “You should probably go now.”

Nasir laughed, softly.  “Probably. I’ll show myself out. I don’t trust myself in an elevator with you right now.” Agron laughed again at that, and stepped back, giving Nasir enough space to turn and pull the door open.

As soon as he did, the sound of people running through the hallway reached his ears. Nasir was just about to slam the door shut when the runners appeared, breathless and pale. “What’s going on?” Nasir asked, stepping back to let them into the room.

“Crassus is here,” Crixus panted, slamming the door shut. “Your friend saw him coming, managed to get word to us without being seen.” Castus, standing beside him, was breathing hard and was more terrified than Nasir had ever seen him. “Spartacus met him at the front door. He’s angry. Spartacus is bringing him up here, but he wanted us to get you two prepared. He knew you’d still be up here,” he added to Agron.

Nasir thanked whatever gods were listening that Castus was too tactful to comment on that. Instead, he said, “Crassus is angry. He’s worked out who freed Naevia, or at least that Spartacus’ group was involved. I should have guessed he’d pick direct confrontation, to cover his ass with the buyer.”

“We’d gotten that far, we just didn’t know it was going to be so soon.” Crixus raked a hand through his hair.

“It’s going to end now, isn’t it,” Nasir said, almost to himself, but Crixus nodded anyway.

“Tonight, at least,” he said. Nasir felt Agron press closer to him, place a hand on his back.

“Why do we have to wait here?” Castus asked.

“Nowhere to go,” Agron said. “They’re most likely already in the elevator and we didn’t put a lot of hiding places on this floor when we designed it. We’re safest if we wait in here. United front and all that.”

They spent the next handful of minutes standing in tense silence, Nasir pressing back into Agron’s hand as much as he could without falling over, Castus trying not to look at Nasir and Agron, and Crixus pacing behind Spartacus’ desk. Finally, they heard the key turning in the lock, and a beat later Spartacus stepped through the door, as calm and collected as Nasir had ever seen him, leading a red-faced but equally calm Marcus.

Marcus noticed Nasir almost instantly and made a move towards him. Agron took a step forward, but Spartacus put out a hand, blocking Marcus’ path. “There will be no need for that,” he said. He turned to the group of people in front of him, Crixus having come out from behind his desk. “I think Crassus and I need to discuss some matters alone. It’s been a long day. Why don’t you all take the rest of the night off? I assure you I have the situation well in hand.”

Crixus opened his mouth to argue, and Nasir felt Agron shift, as though he wanted to move towards Spartacus. Castus cut them both off. “Of course you do. We’ll take our leave now.” Marcus looked up sharply, as though he had just realized Castus was there. A look of betrayal crossed his face for a moment before it smoothed back into indifference. Castus crossed to the door and held it open; Nasir moved towards it, and felt Agron follow behind him. Crixus took a few more seconds to follow, scowling and throwing a look at Spartacus over his shoulder, but eventually they were all outside, and Castus gently pulled the door shut.

They took a moment to look at the heavy door, soundproof and solid, before Crixus turned and silently made his way towards the elevator. Agron lingered, but Nasir gestured that he should walk ahead with Crixus, leaving him to follow with Castus.

Castus broke the silence. “So. Him, huh?” Nasir looked at him and saw that he was smiling, only slightly wistfully. He nodded towards Agron. “Or was he just being awfully touchy and I should now kill him?”

“No killing required,” Nasir admitted. He felt a blush creep up his neck.

“Good,” Castus declared. “You should have a soft place to land after all this is over.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say he’s soft,” Nasir muttered before he could stop himself. Castus let out a surprised laugh. “In all seriousness, though,” Nasir went on after the laugh stopped echoing. “Thank you. I don’t know how I would have gotten through the past few years, let alone the past few days, without you.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Castus said, sounding so uncomfortable that Nasir let the matter drop.

“What will you do? You’re out of a job now.”

“Oh, there are always people wanting bodyguards,” Castus replied, going back to his lighter tone. “Independent businessmen, politicians, whoever. Being a big bald black bodyguard means never being out of work.” Nasir laughed.

By that point they had caught up with Agron and Crixus, who were waiting for the elevator to arrive. Agron frowned as he saw the two of them, but Nasir pressed his arm against Agron’s and his brow smoothed out.

Crixus all but ran out the front door when the elevator opened to let them out at the ground floor. “Going to Naevia,” Agron clarified at Castus’ raised eyebrow. “Probably wants to be with her tonight, especially with Spartacus...” he trailed off.

Castus nodded. “Of course. On that note, I’ll head off myself. Let me know if you hear anything?” he added to Nasir, who nodded back. Castus turned and made off down the dark sidewalk.

Nasir and Agron stood in silence for a moment. It occurred to Nasir that Agron might be expecting him to return to his own apartment, and felt a sick twisting in his stomach. He couldn’t go back there, not alone. Not tonight. Thankfully, Agron chose that moment to run a hand over his hair and ask awkwardly, “Your place or mine?”

“Oh god, yours,” Nasir said, words rushing out of him in relief. Agron pulled him close and led him to a nondescript car parked on the corner. Nasir slid into the passenger seat when Agron opened the door and within moments they were tearing off to a part of the city that Nasir didn’t know.

Agron lived in a tiny house a fifteen-minute drive away. “It’s all I could afford when I first got to the city,” he said, pointing it out as they turned onto his street. “By the time I could afford better I loved it too much to leave, even after Duro died.”

His voice caught on the mention of his brother. “It’s lovely,” Nasir said, covering Agron’s hand on the gearshift with his own. Agron turned his hand over and squeezed Nasir’s before unbuckling his seat belt and leading Nasir inside.

Agron hung Nasir’s coat on a hook by the door and Nasir followed him through to the kitchen. “Are you hungry?” he asked, turning to face Nasir.

Nasir kissed him, and this time Agron’s arms wrapped around him, hands resting on the small of his back. Nasir let one of his own grip the fabric of Agron’s t-shirt, the other sliding over his short-cropped hair. “Not really,” Nasir murmured, pulling back.

Agron kissed him again and slid his hands to Nasir’s chest, popping open the first button, then the second, working their way down. Nasir tugged on the other man’s t-shirt, slipping a hand underneath to get to skin, until he had to let go so Agron could push his shirt off his shoulders. As soon as it was off he dragged Agron’s shirt over his head and pulled him back towards him, tipping his head back slightly. Agron dove in, burying his face in Nasir’s neck. Nasir gasped, one hand tightening on Agron’s shoulder, the other reaching up to his own hair to pull the red ribbon out and let it fall to the floor.

**Epilogue**

****

Nasir stood in the park, in the same spot he had been standing when Agron first saw him through a rifle sight, watching as police and spectators milled around the entrance to Spartacus’ offices. The police had received a frantic call from Spartacus himself earlier that morning, reporting a dead body in one of his back rooms. A single gunshot wound to the head was the rumor. Agron was in the crowd somewhere, being questioned by police, as was Crixus. Castus was nowhere to be seen, but had been the one to call Nasir and let him and Agron know what was going on; the story was already on the news.

The crowd parted and grew louder, and Nasir saw the coroner’s team carrying a wrapped form strapped to a gurney out the front door and into a waiting ambulance. The cop in charge of the case followed, and Nasir could make out an eyepatch from where he was standing.

“That’s Oenomaus,” came a voice from behind him. Nasir jumped. “Sorry,” said the voice, which was coming from a small woman a few yards away. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay,” Nasir said, taking a good look at her and beckoning her closer. He could see a jagged cut down the side of her face that would leave a nasty scar. She was thinner than her frame indicated she should be, and tense despite having started the conversation. “Are you Naevia?"

“Yes,” she said, a smile blooming on her face. “Are you Nasir?”

“I am.”

She came to stand next to him, still tense but starting to smile. “The policeman. His name is Oenomaus. One of Crassus’ men took his eye a while back. He’s been a friend of Crixus’ for years.”

“Interesting,” Nasir murmured, watching the cop speaking to Spartacus, who had come out after him. “I hear they’re saying it was suicide.”

“That’s what I hear too,” Naevia agreed. “They’re saying he broke into the building to try and frame Spartacus, but his prints are all over the gun.”

“Not a good plan, then, as they go.” Nasir brushed a lock of his loose hair out of his face, then lost patience and pulled a dark blue elastic band from his pocket, sliding it around his wrist. “But then, he never was as good with strategy as he thought he was,” he added, mostly to himself, tying his hair up out of his face.

Naevia looked at him but didn’t say anything for a moment. Agron and Crixus were making their way across the street, the police having finished questioning them. “Come on,” she said, reaching out to link her arm through Nasir’s. “I’m starving. Let’s see if we can’t get brunch out of those two.” Her smile twisted into a grin, and Nasir couldn’t help but answer with one of his own.

 


End file.
